


To Be (or not to be) Whole Again

by xAglow



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Hawkeye (Comics), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Sense8 (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Crossover, Epic, F/M, M/M, Multi, Possessive Behavior, Protectiveness, Psychic Bond, sense8 - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-03 14:55:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4105021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xAglow/pseuds/xAglow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>War ravaged the clusters of those both already born again and those yet to be. Stunted and aimless many of their lights died out completely in the Great Tree, Yggdrasil. Frigga did everything she could, especially when she saw the Sick One, the Soldier and The Woman fight as hard as they were to survive after the death of their other five. They had not been born again, but their loss had still damaged them. They deserved to be whole. It took many years, but Frigga found them a complete cluster. </p><p>Now they were ready for the destiny that Fate had been pushing them, her son, and all of Midgard towards. </p><p>(*Frigga POV is only in the first chapter. After that it's hands off omnipresent narrator and into some murky, Gatsby-esk unreliably from our mortal narrators.*)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Setting the Stage

Frigga watched the universe from Yggdrasil. And, of all the worlds and all the wonders, it was this world and this strange bit of evolution she found on Midgard that caught her fascination the most. The race of men had, at first, seemed so alone and isolated from one another. Frigga saw this in their warring, in their violence. But soon the real gems of that world began to gleam. They glowed in the most iridescent sparkle she’d ever seen shine from Yggdrasil’s bowers. 

Little clusters of men and women, from all walks of life, from all corners of the world, linked together by a bond she’d never thought possible. She watched and tended them where she could. In her eyes, their beauty was unparalleled. She kept them safe like they were her children. That was until the violence of the world’s other inhabitants invented such means of pain and death that it plunged the whole of Midgard into war. The World War, they called it. So many of her precious children died during that time. Worse, some clusters that would have been complete in their little infinities were decimated, leaving the survivors adrift. 

The lives and futures of so many… snuffing out like candles left carelessly near an open window. She watched them dim from her seat under Yggdrasil and wept. 

It was at this point in time, after so many years with her eyes shifted towards Midgard that she saw 3 lights for her children drift towards a growing destiny. They were being pulled together to a very familiar light, the light of her son, Thor. She had known Thor was fated to claim Midgard under his protection as much as Frigga called these children hers, but that wouldn’t be before the life spans of these 3 were dull and soon to extinguishing. Why were they a part of this grand destiny shared with her son?

She watched these 3 ever closer and saw much suffering. Past, Present and Future. Whispers of what would await them came ever louder as events were thrust into motion and Midgard once again was at war with itself. A second World War. Frigga couldn’t even weep anymore, her sorrow so deep at the thought of seeing the slaughter of her children once more. 

These 3 would not have it easy. They didn’t know it, their link to one another was too fragile after the loss of the other 5, but Frigga feared for them desperately. One was already so sick and weak from the loss of their others. Would he make it if more tragedy fell upon their cluster? Would The Woman be able to handle the tortures she faced if she lost one of the remaining? Would the one last standing strong survive the death of the only one he’d been able to make connect with? Would he think himself truly alone after and wither away like she’d seen of so many after that first World War?

Frigga forcibly stops herself half a dozen times from intervening in the lives of both The Woman and Soldier. She was given the gift by Yggdrasil to see and with that sight came the temperance to know when to act and when not to. She knew these 3 would shape the world, but how and when (if ever) was it safe to interfere? All she knew was that she could not act to save the man when he was taken prisoner and injected with strange potions for it would change the fate of Midgard and the cluster. She could not take The Woman away from her countrymen and their tortures for it would change too much and The Woman might not become who she needed to save the future. 

It was a sudden thing, how the sick one, whose light had been flickering with stress, was now brighter than most all the lights coming from Midgard. Something had been done to him, something she saw in a lesser extent repeated to the Soldier and The Woman in later year. The once sickly one was now more, he was who he would have been if his cluster had been whole. There was still suffering, by no means had whatever been done to him erased that soul deep pain, but he was now a man able to protect his cluster and with a sudden certainty, Frigga knew this was going to be vital. 

With the War still raging and 2 of that small group together again and protecting each other Frigga allowed her gaze to drift to the other children of Midgard. Her sharp cry drew Odin to the Tree, fearing for his lady wife. 

“My dear!”

“No!” She wailed at the Great Tree.

“Please, Frigga! What has Yggdrasil shown you?” 

“My poor, poor children!”

“The kind? Your kind on Midgard?”

“The other half have…. They have found… found my poor children!” Frigga could no longer look up at the branches. 

So many of those once beautiful twinkling lights where now sickly dull or had gone out altogether. Even as Odin had approached, she’d watched in horror as Yggdrasil showed her WHY her beautiful children were being harmed. Scientists. Labs. Cutting. Experiments. She would have retched if she had eaten yet that day. Instead, all that came up was bile. 

In what felt like the space of a single breath, after only just being reunited, her Soldier and his Captain were ripped from one another. Yggdrasil left Frigga near frozen, colder that Jotunheim with visions of what befell them. The World’s war with itself was over. However, The Woman still fought, still bled for her kinsman and the war her other children faced was only just started. 

The pain and pressing cold left Frigga bedridden and Odin turned his eye to the world his wife had held to such affection these thousands of years. He was not gifted in seeing the history and future of things from the Great Tree, but he sent Munnin and Huginn to tell him of what might have left his love so sick of heart. They returned and the news of these Scientists made Odin ill. Midgardians… he thought to himself, such arrogance and pride. Such violence and pain. It was here that Odin washed his hands of the realm. 

Frigga knew The Woman still fought. From her bed, she thought long and hard of The Woman’s fate. With the ties of her cluster weakened further by the icy slumber of the Soldier and the Captain, Frigga asked Yggdrasil for the wisdom. She prayed to know how to help them, to see them all through. It wasn’t until after many years and watching as The Woman did not age that Frigga knew what needed doing. While fate had already seen fit to bring the Soldier and The Woman together, Frigga conspired to see their cluster be whole. 

It seemed that these great World Wars had done more than fracture the clusters of her children. They had blurred the borders of Midgardian nations and infighting broke out. Unrest in the many places Midgardians called Holy was not unusual, but the deaths were high and took some of her children. Her Captain’s kinsman killed more in a long, drawn out affair known as the Vietnam War. And the nation The Woman had been remade in had taken more lives in a particularly troubled land called Afghanistan. From this, the survive 3 of another cluster had started making their way to that destiny that would consume her son and the whole of Midgard. It was here that Frigga pushed and prayed, begged and pleaded and with all the power she possessed aligned each set of 3 into a healthier cluster of 6. 

Her Captain slept and was the luckiest for it. The addition of the new 3 into the old cluster took a great toll on the Soldier. He’d been killing for evil men and in the name of evil purposes, but the jarring addition had jogged something within him. Something that made the tortures dealt on his mind break enough for him to escape his handlers and run. He’d been separated from The woman for some years after her training that she could not feel his freedom, but she did feel something just as affecting as the Soldier. It was the call of one of the new 3. She too found freedom from her handlers and went in search. Her masters of the time, while upset and still searching for her, had other things to deal with in their own lands. Walls were being torn down and a missing spy was the least of their concerns. 

6 strong, but aside from The Woman getting the occasional flash of Iowa fields, Frigga knew they were not strong enough to connect as a true cluster could. Without that strength, they could not find and save the Captain. She would have to watch the fates and see if 2 more could be added to make this group whole. Yggdrasil seemed willing and able to help complete this group and with the decision to keep looking settled Frigga began to see hope, not just for this cluster, but for all her children there on Midgard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But xAglow, "how can all these people be in a cluster if they are not born on the same day/year?" you ask. Well… I’m fudging stuff a little and adding in Frigga-Asgardian-Margic junk to make it work. For the sake of being as canon as possible I’m making Natasha, Bucky and Steve all born in 1917. This is the official Birthday of Bucky in the Marvel movieverse. While the movies are not known for being the most cannon, at 1917 this would give a good few years of active war for their other 5 cluster members to feasible die within.  
> As for Tony, Bruce and Clint I’m making them all be born in 1970. That’s that year Tony was born. Bruce was born in 1969 and Clint in 1971 so it’s all close enough anyway. Their other cluster members are being lost in the Yom Kippur War (1973), Vietnam War (1955-75), and The Soviet War in Afghanistan (1979-89). They all die young and so the 3 remaining don’t really remember it. (They will all have hella high protective instincts, however, cause they still feel it)  
> This story will be a heavy amalgamation of comic and movieverse. I like that Bucky and Steve were childhood friends more than Bucky being the younger sidekick. I like how Bucky trained Natasha in the Red Room in the comics so that’s in there. I also love how Bucky and Natasha went rouge agent after getting out from under hydra and how Natasha totally corrupted Clint for a while there. Clint and Natasha’s relationship is fun in the comics so that’s gonna come out here. I also LOVE Darcy and Thor’s movieverse story so I’m sticking with that almost 100%. I’m throwing in some Norse mythology stuff cause I can, however, so be prepared for some weird Loki/Horse jokes and Munnin and Huginn! 
> 
> Don’t worry, I wont be bring stuff up that wont make sense if you haven’t read the comics.


	2. Whole Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Props to anyone that gets where Natasha's cover name comes from :3 
> 
> "There's something in me that loves Death.   
> I think of myself as Death, sometimes.   
> In a scarlet shroud, floating through the night.   
> I'm so beautiful, then.   
> And sad."

Clint

“Did your hear?”

“Hear what, Daphne?”

“A big wall built by commi’s was taken down, ending the cold war or something.”

“You sound well informed.”

“Like you’re so educated. You didn’t even go to school, Clint.”

“Neither did you.”

“I sure as hell did! Right up until highschool. S’more’n say than you!”

Clint just nodded his head absently. He liked the Coney Island Circus, but fuck if Daphne, one of the contortionists, wasn’t a giant cunt. He left her to… whatever she was doing. His show was in a few hours and the stand holding his trick arrows was already out so he put his restrung bow on its hanger.

Natasha

One minuet Natasha was… well, herself and then the next she was _herself_. She remembers being a devoted wife to Alexei and training as a ballerina. She remembers his death and turning herself into the fist of the U.S.S.R., a soldier for her country in the name of the greater good. But then she remembers the Red Room. She remembers so much more than the lie of being a wife, of being a patriot to her country. It knocks her off her feet with the force of it. The commander’s office around her grew hazy and unfocused.

The revelation of the mid control wasn’t the only thing to hit her. Deep in her chest was an ache not that unfamiliar to what she’s felt for Alexei. This was deeper though, stronger. There was a pull, an urgency that told her that someone out there was _hers_ and she needed to go to them. 

She paused mid breath. Was this another trick? No, the Room wouldn’t have allowed for her to remember, but this feeling, this presence in her chest – dare she say heart – was what had woken her, it couldn’t be a part of the Room tricking her. A dark face flashed across her vision. Yasha! She remembered Yasha and new this feeling was real. But as clearly as she felt Yasha she felt this stronger pull towards the opposite direct. A pull that was no less important, maybe more so for its power in bring her back to herself.

“Agent!” The voice startled her out of her own thoughts. “What is the matter with you?” Memories of the past and present, the mind control, everything! It was too much that this man, a man whose name she new all of a minuet ago was suddenly a stranger to her. His importance and everything became a confused jumble.

“I have to go,” She said and left. Left the office, the building, the camp, the country. She didn’t look up until she found herself in New York outside a too colourful sign proclaiming the “Coney Island Cirrus.” She had an odd amalgamation of memories from her travel here. The feeling in her chest a driving force to get here, to this spot, to find… There was other less focused and intense impressions, like the news about the wall in Berlin. 

But this, this was what was important now. All that killing, all the betrayal, that was… not behind her, but something was now in front of her and for the first time in years she was going to take something for herself.

Clint

Clint was fucked. He’d only meant to help that stupid store get its diamonds back from the half wit robbers and now all of New York was looking for hit ass to lock up for the crime. Shit.

He rubbed is chest absently. Today was the first time in a few days that he felt normal, better than normal actually. It felt like something was slotting into place, but that was way too romantic so Clint swept the thought aside. 

“Oh, I’m sorry Miss, but we’re not open right now, gotta give the performers a break before the next showing.”

“I’m looking for someone –” A soft, feminine voice started. Clint turned at that and saw a woman with the most beautiful red hair.

Whatever else the woman was saying was drowned out by a rushing in Clint’s ears. The roaring got louder and his hand unconsciously drew back up to his chest to rub at his sternum. His heart felt like it was gonna beat out of his ribs and land at her feet. He couldn’t blame his heart for the attempt, he felt near to throwing _himself_ at her feel, himself.

“Hi,” It was loud and his voice might have broken on a single syllable word.

She turned towards him quickly, as if he poked her with one of his arrows. “I was looking for you.” She said with a soft smile, and something in Clint told him this woman didn’t often do soft.

Natasha

“Why are we stealing this from Stark again?” Clint sounded skeptical, or as skeptical as he’d allow himself were she was concerned.

The young mans unwavering faith in her was terrifying at times. She still wasn’t used to it, even after running together for the last 11 years. He didn’t know who she was, what she’d done… How could he trust…

“The man has more than enough to spare so your quasi Robin Hood complex can be at peace. And the buyer I have lined up for this should have us sitting pretty for a while.”

“Does that mean we wouldn’t have to do anymore job’s for a while?” His hopeful tone made him sound like he was 18 again, like when she’d first met him all those years ago.

“Hopefully.” Natasha didn’t say anything about the shadow she’d had to lose 4 times over the last few weeks or that she thought whoever was stalking her was looking to take her back to her old life. 

Natasha had kept her ear to the ground for news about brain washing and mind control and hadn’t liked what she’d heard. The techniques and technologies had only gotten better over the years and Natasha didn’t want to think what that would mean for her if they caught hold of her again. 

“Okay,” Clint said with his easy smile, “I don’t think I like you as a blond, but I like the shorter hair.” He added before loping off to get into position. He added a wink before he was out of sight. The job was going down tonight.

The plan was supposed to be simple. She was going to seduce Tony Stark as a distraction while Clint went in and stole the device. Simple. Clint had all the intel on what he was looking for so his job would be an easy in and out once she disabled the security form within. Again, simple. The seduction of Stark, however, was becoming rather complicated. 

There was a guilty burning in her chest for what she was doing to the man. This was unheard of for the Black Widow. On top of that and more concerning was the feeing she got while around Tony – Stark! Not Tony. She’d bumped into him ‘accidently’ at a restaurant and gotten an offer for dinner within 5 minuets. His touches, which were many, did odd things to her, like how it felt went Clint touch her with similar intent. Like how Yasha’s touches had felt.

She dreaded the similar feeling rearing up again, especially since the setting for the plan put them in even more intimate positions. If Natasha could get away with it she would try and keep from sleeping with Stark. He was… alluring in a way that she wasn’t used to with her marks, or with anyone outside Clint and Yasha.

Clint

Clint loved his life with Natasha. He wouldn’t call her his soulmate to her face or anything (she’d likely knock him out cold if he did), but he felt it in his heart. She was a very literal part of him and after being together for more than 10 years he knew her well enough to know she felt the same way. 

They never talked about how she never aged. They never talked about how much longer she’d been alive than him, or what she’d been doing those BC (before-Clint) years. He was okay with that. He’d come to terms with it along with how, sometimes, in the name of duty Natasha would sleep with other men. Stark and Natasha together, however, made him uncomfortable in a way he’d never experienced before. He didn’t have time to articulate it, even to himself. The plan was going down tonight and he had to get his ass in gear.

He made his way up to S.I.’s roof and the entrance point Nat and he had agreed would be best. He was waiting for his pager to go off before going in. Nat was supposed to beep him when she’d lowered the security so he could get in. 

He was up there for about an hour when his cock started to twitch with interest. It was uncomfortable as hell, and completely inappropriate. He wasn’t even doing anything that exciting yet for an action-related boner to pop a tent. He tried to breath and calm down enough for it to go away, but then he swore he felt Nat’s firm grip on his dick.

“Fuck,” he moaned out brokenly.

He felt phantom hands, lips ghosting on his neck and suddenly he felt himself kissing Nat. It was too intense, he lost focus on the mission, of his location, of the very precarious nature of what those two things meant.

Clint/Natasha/Tony

Tony had no context for this kind of sex. He’d had some good sex while on drugs, but they were always indistinct, especially when you were in the middle of it. This was the opposite. Everything was sharp. Each touch felt like it was going over again and again. 

“Fuck,” he moaned out brokenly.

His date, Phyllis Nirdlinger, had her hand around his swelling cock. She was kissing a line up his neck and then he was kissing her. He was in control of it until very suddenly he wasn’t. Suddenly he was the one being kissed. The tongue was insistent and the ghost of stubble grazed his cheeks. _The fuck?_ He couldn’t think about it for too long because while he was being kissed Phyllis’s mouth was back on his neck. God it felt so good. 

Strong hands cupped the side of his face, angling him for a deeper kiss. Clint went with it, everything felt too good not to. He dropped one of his hands to trail down Nat’s back and heard her gasp.

“That is,” Clint crooned at her.

“Who’s Nat?” Tony said absently between the hard chest of a blond man and Phyllis’s beautiful breasts. 

“Shhhhh,” Phyllis –Nat? – said coming up to take over kissing him.

Tony felt more than heard her moan as the other man with them –and when did that happen? – moved down to suck at her erect nipple. Not to be outdone, Tony trailed his hand up her thigh and cupped her sex. She was wet and her spread some of her slickness up to her clit, using his thumb in slow circles around her. None of them were prepaid for the feeling of Tony’s fingers to thrum through them all. As if he was touching all three of them at once with the move. 

Things did start to blur after that. Tony isn’t sure if he was the one doing the fucking or the one being fucked… it might have been both. Clint, on the roof of S.I., had to abandon the mission, with no word on if the security had been taken down and the window for getting in and out without detection have been blown he left for the safe house he and Nat had in town.

Natasha was too shaken by the supernatural connection she’d shared with Clint and Tony to meet back up at the safe house Clint and her shared. She left Tony’s mansion and ambled in a daze. Tony too out of it to stop her. It was about 4 in the morning when Natasha was forcible reminded she was being stalked when she was hit over the head and knocked out. The last few thoughts before blacking out were a panicked swirl of, “not now, not again, not now, not again.” 

Clint

After a few weeks of not seeing or hearing from Natasha, Clint started getting worried. He felt something was wrong, but didn’t know what. She wasn’t with Tony that was for sure. He’d been casing not only Starks mansion, but also S.I.

It was in the building across from S.I. that Clint was made. He had felt an itch like he was being watch, but had just hoped it was Nat. He new better now staring at the end of a government issue glock from his prone position on the ground. 

“Clint Barton, aka Hawkeye. Known partner of the Black Widow who’s whereabouts we’re very interested in knowing.”

“Sorry Agent Agentson, but you’re shit out of luck, just lost her myself.” Clint realized this was probably why Nat had bailed. She’d seen the writing on the wall and knew their covers here were blown. Nice of her to clue him in…

“It’s Agent Coulson, now hand up and out,” he said tersely. Clint complied. “Now on your stomach, nice and slow.” Clint again complied.

“Looks like your partner abandoned you.” A deep voice said from somewhere above and to the left of where Clint was on the ground.

“Looks about right,” Clint bit out.

The deep voiced man knelt in front of Clint, giving him a chance to see him. He was missing an eye, with an eye patch and everything. He was very dark skinned and bald, 

“You’re talented, son. I’ve seen video of you at work. You could take a wing of a fly with some of your shots.” He sounded about as impressed as Clint’s kindergarten teacher had been when he made a mud pie and dropped in in her lap. “Why you working against your country and for a K.G.B. spy?”

That was news to Clint. He’d heard Nat speak Russian when she got pissed, but a spy? Well, yeah he could see it, but…

“She was a spy?” he asked morosely and letting his head fall forward as Agent Coulson finished cuffing him.

He was pulled up to his feet and met the dark gaze of the man in front of him. “Well this might just turn out alright for both of us, son.” 

And Clint didn’t know what to make of that.

Darcy 

Darcy was 5 years old when she was taken to the hospital for the first time. It was as traumatic as these things usually were, but the pain and heartache she’d felt in her tiny little body at the time helped her to not focus on her environment… for as much comfort as that could be. 

The second time Darcy was taken to the hospital she was 7 and had been seizing for almost a full 2 minuets. She’d cried and cried for almost 3 days after. The hospital staff started calling her the banshee when it was determined she wasn’t in any medical emergency (aside from the unexplained seizure)… it was a nurse thing… they were morbid like that…

Darcy was really sick after that. The slightest cold wind would have her bed ridden, but she didn’t let that stop her from being a force of nature in personality. She could never explain it to people, but it felt like she had to take up more room that used be filled by something ese. Like she was missing pieces of herself and so she filled those wholes with loudness and a larger than life personality.

Wanda 

Wanda knew about the others. In her chest she’d always felt them. It was different than what she knew she could do with her head. The feelings weren’t exactly like water and oil, but they were different enough that she knew the feeling in her chest as them and the power of her mind and her. She wasn’t sure, but she had a feeling the others didn’t know about her, let alone each other. Well, until they started feeling the loss of each other. 

She knew their loss… each and every time it happened. If it weren’t for her connection with her brother, Pietro, then she’d be just as sick as the others Wanda felt over the connection. 7 years old and Wanda feared for the others she felt in her chest. Pietro and her were strong, strong enough that she knew she’d make it through anything else to happen to the 3 others she felt that were left in their once 8 strong group.

It was when Wanda was 9 that she felt another start to decline towards death. There was a phantom cough in her chest for a month before she felt the life give out in another of their dwindling number. It hit the other 2 hard, harder than Wanda. Pietro slept in her bed for months after and hardly ever left her side. He was the only thing keeping her walking sometimes. 

It was a little over a year later when another fell. Wanda new it had been because of the decline in health over the loss of so many that they were connected to. Wanda cried for the first time after. She’d buried these feelings, unable to even tell her brother about them, but this last death had broken that remaining strength. She knew it was only a matter of time before she lost that last little light in her chest. She cried all the harder knowing soon she’d be alone, a type of alone outside her brothers presence, and she was afraid. 

Pietro was lost, unable to console his sister, but then their parents and home were torn apart by a Stark bomb and his sisters tears mixed with his own.

Darcy

Darcy was back in the hospital. The nurses did not joke about her tears, her weak whimpers.

It was in a moment of sickness induced delirium that Darcy, age 10, knew why she was so sad and sick. Parts of herself had been taken from her. Steadily over the years she’d lost important parts of herself and there was no getting them back. She felt like she was holding onto the last two pieces of herself and one of those pieces felt far away from herself. Far enough outside Darcy’s reach to hold tight and protect that panic flared in tiny body and stopped her breath cold. That had been a bad night. Most of the staff thought they’d lost the little girl, but she’d pulled through, but none were very hopeful for the coming days.

It was the following night that Darcy had another odd bout of delirium. She dreamt a beautiful woman made of light and gold came to her sick bed. The woman asked her is she could be strong enough to hold on a little longer, that Darcy wouldn’t be as alone if she just gave it a little bit of time. Darcy held on and come morning didn’t remember the dream.

Wanda

The refuge camp was loud at this hour of the day. Too many people cramped into tents that were nose to nose with each other. Wanda hated the stuff feeling of so many people together. It made the power in her head buzz uncomfortably. Pietro was no better, legs twitching with the inactivity. He hadn’t been able to run anywhere for a while now, not since the crowd got too big to risk someone seeing his powers. Not since anywhere outside the camp became too dangerous for him to run in.

At first Wanda mistook the feeling buzzing around her for that buzzing of the crowd, but it was getting worse, tighter, and not in her head, but her chest. She clutched at a particulary sharp pain, and hunched over.

“Wanda” Pietro’s soft voice said from beside her on the refuge mat they were sitting on in their tent. There was a modicum of privacy with the tents flaps closed, but they had to be quite if they didn’t want to be overheard. 

“Their –” Wanda cut herself off. 10 years old was not old enough for the words to describe what was happening.

“Wanda?” Pietro said in growing alarm.

“Their not back,” Wanda tried, “but… but I feel their presence again. It’s less… empty,” Wanda choked off in relief, silent tears streaking down her dirty face.

“The others? I thought you said you felt them die?” Pietro said with as much confidence as her could. His sister had finally told him about these other people that she could feel, but he was still a little skeptical.

Wanda pulled a face, “They are. I mean, the others are still gone and I feel their absence, but… there are new people there.” She said, closing her eyes at the end to try and focus on the new feeling.

“A new set of people? Like, replacements?” 

Wanda’s eyes flew open and she laughed for the first time in what felt like years.

“Wanda?”

“She’s going to be okay now!” Wanda said, turning swiftly to meet the confused gaze of her twin.

“That last one? Was she replaced too?”

“No! We’re whole again, so she wont get any sicker!”

“Does that mean you wont be so sad? Won’t be as weak?” Pietro grasped at the only thing he could really understand.

“Yes,” She said simply, a smile blooming on her face.

Pietro hugged her. This was the first piece of good news since his and his sister’s world had latterly come crumbled around them.

“Some are stronger than others. It feels…” She tried, again having to close her eyes and focus on the feeling in her chest, on the new lights of life she now felt. “like… like a few have found each other already. But some are in a really dark place still.” She shivered in cold.

The power in her head whispered to her, showed her that their pain now was temporary. “It’s going to be okay,” Wanda said, half to herself and half to those new lives she’d been connected with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Purposes of this story Darcy will be 22 years old for the events of the movie, Thor, which I’ll say took place in 2011, the same year the events of Iron Man 2 were taking place. I’m putting the events of Iron Man 1 set within 2009-2010 (ie the time Tony being kidnapped and all held hostage). I’m also making it a year between events in 2011 and the destruction of New York. 2012 will be when Steve wakes up too. Another year jump between the events of Avengers and Captain America: Winter Soldier, making Bucky enter the scene in 2013. This will help cut on how much stuff in-between events I have to write. I’m also saying that Age of Ultron stuff is gonna happen in late 2013 early 2014. 
> 
> This is important cause this gives us a timeline for when Nat and Clint met up. At the age of 10, Darcy and Wanda get added to cluster with Steve, Bucky, Natasha, Tony, Bruce and Clint. That’d make it 1999 when this happens. Clint would be 29  
> and have just joined S.H.I.E.L.D. after his life in crime with Black Widow (comic-related cannon-ish). Said life of crime I’m putting around 1988, so Clint will be of age (18 year old). I’m gonna say that they run with each other from 1988-1999. This gives Clint 5 years working for S.H.I.E.L.D. on his own before Nat is back in his life for the next 7 years leading up to Loki’s attack.  
> Have I lost you guys? Sorry.


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